


Sink In

by vianne78



Series: Danae - Shorts and Drabbles [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aftermath, Blowing off steam again, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Random & Short, Shameless Smut, Shorts, Smut, These two do that, Vaginal Sex, dragon attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianne78/pseuds/vianne78
Summary: “It’s an Ancient!” Vorstag’s voice was closer, but still too far for her liking, and her stomach fell.“I don’t have armor! Just a bow!” Her voice cracked a little as she notched the first arrow.





	Sink In

**Author's Note:**

> They've been married for a while now, and, you know, it's just another afternoon at home.
> 
> I think this happens some time before Things That Follow You - not that I have any kind of firmly set timeline in mind for them, and I haven't written these snippets in chronological order, either.

“Mama!”

Danae snapped her head up from the forge, instantly alarmed. She knew her daughters and recognized that tone, and it made her look for danger.  
She found it from the sky.  
A dragon. Headed straight for the manor.  
It would reach them in a few short moments, and her eyes measured distances between her and weapons and her children and the house, while she was springing into action and barking orders.

“Runa! Lucia! Inside, now! Tell Lydia!”

She reached her bow and arrows just as Lucia reached the manor door and opened it. 

The dragon screeched triumphantly, closing in way too fast. 

Runa stumbled in after Lucia and then the massive door banged closed.  
Her children were safe. 

“Danae!”  
Her husband’s voice carried from the lake as she was hastily strapping on a couple of pieces of leather armor that happened to be lying close by - there was no time to get anything else.

“I know! Girls are inside!” 

“It’s an Ancient!” Vorstag’s voice was closer, but still too far for her liking, and her stomach fell. 

“I don’t have armor! Just a bow!” Her voice cracked a little as she notched the first arrow. 

“I’m coming, baby!” She knew that urgency in his voice had nothing to do with the dragon, they had faced similar and far worse together. It had everything to do with the fact that this time she would be the sole target of the beasts first attack, and wearing a dress and an apron and a couple of pieces of leather, she might as well be wearing nothing at all.  
He was afraid for her.  
She was, too.

The dragon was now hovering almost above her, and she locked eyes with it.  
Magnificent, god-awful creature.  
The first arrow from her dragonbone bow found it’s target, blue tendrils of crackling energy spreading from the hit, dealing even more damage, and swiftly she was drawing another one. The dragon roared in rage. 

Just as Vorstag and Rayya rushed up the rise from the shore, weapons drawn and ready to join the fight, just as Danae released the second arrow, she was covered in a burst of flames.  
The heat rolled out like a blistering tide and burned Vorstag’s skin. 

Everything slowed down.  
His heart stopped.  
“NO!”

He couldn’t see her, the dragon’s fiery breath covered everything.  
He tried to yell but his lungs refused to draw enough air.  
The dragon started rising slowly and stopped the attack.

The flames dissipated, and suddenly the world was moving again and Vorstag could breathe.  
Danae was still there, crouched and singed and shaking but _alive_ , surrounded by the bluish orb of the shield she’d managed to cast just in time. 

To draw attention away from his wife, Vorstag blasted spears of ice from the staff he was holding. The ice spears hit the dragon’s neck and made it whip it’s horned head to look at him, and he roared his wrath at it. 

At the same time Lydia emerged on the balcony above the library, and started raining arrows on the irritated monster from behind.  
Rayya joined in from the ground, and just when the dragon drew its breath again, Danae used her Thu’um.

“JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

The dragon faltered mid-attack, flapping its wings in somewhat undignified manner, and then it started falling. The ground shook when it hit the ground on the other side of the manor, and everyone was reminded that the gentle, loving mother and wife was also Dragonborn. And right then, the wildly grinning, ash-stained Dragonborn was running toward the scaly mountain of a beast, the one she had just forced to land by shouting at it. 

This time Vorstag was right by Danae’s side, shooting more ice spears.  
Lydia was continuously firing arrows from the rooftop, and Rayya was already dancing around the dragon’s rear, dealing severe damage with her swinging scimitars. 

Only a few arrows more from Danae’s enchanted bow, combined with the attacks of the others, and the dragon was dead. Its body crumpled to the ground, and silence replaced the deafening roars and sounds of battle.

Rayya, standing next to the defeated beast they were all staring at, threw her arms in the air and let out a wild, ululating cry of victory, the sound carrying far and wide, making animals and beings raise their heads all across the lake. 

Danae closed her eyes, gasping, as the dragon’s soul sought her in stunning, permeating whirls. The vastness of it both staggered and exhilarated her every time - she welcomed it, and when it was over, she was somewhat flustered and out of breath.  
Vorstag muttered a string of curses under his breath next to her.

“Come with me.” He was trying hard to remain calm, but his teeth were clamped together and his grip on her arm was very firm. Danae followed half running.  
His strides were much longer than hers, and he didn’t bother to make sure she could keep up. Soon the excited voices of the others faded away, and they were alone. 

He led her to the sheltered, sandy spot they often thought of as their own private haven. Situated between what looked like two enormous roots of the cliff, it was a smooth carving in the rock face, a hollow right by the water, surrounded by gently climbing slopes and lush vegetation. A perfect place for lazy afternoons, but she had an inkling this would probably not be one of those.

He swirled around and grabbed her by the shoulders.  
“Do you realize what just happened?”  
His face was bordering on gray. 

“I...yes. No. Well. There was a dragon. I couldn’t help it.”  
She sounded defensive, and she couldn’t help that, either.  
Vorstag seemed so upset. He was never upset.

“There was a dragon”, he repeated slowly, and then bared his teeth. “Yeah, a dragon. Who cares. Who cares about dragons, but I thought I lost you. I - almost - lost - you!”  
He was raising his voice, which was rare enough, but also punctuating the words by shaking her so hard her teeth clattered.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. They had been through bad, and terrible, and downright catastrophic situations together, but this was the first time she’d seen him so rattled afterwards.  
“So… You _really_ were worried.”

“Worried? You - worried? That doesn’t even begin to… You had no armor! You were facing it alone! I _knew_ I wasn’t going to get to you on time and I’ve never felt anything like it! And just when I saw you there with your bow and bravado, it _burned you to death_ right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it because I was too late!” 

Now he was all but shouting. He let go of her to wipe his shaky hands across his face in an effort to calm down. It didn’t seem to work.  
“I saw you die. I wasn’t worried. I was terrified. Terrified!” He raised his hands in defeat. “I can’t remember being terrified in my life, and now I’m angry and I’m never this angry! I don’t know _why_ I’m angry, but I feel like yelling and by the Nine, I’m going to yell as much as I want to -” 

His perfectly fine tirade was cut short, when she approached him bravely, took his face between her hands, dragged his head down and kissed him. 

For two heartbeats he was frozen in place.  
Third, fourth, fifth, he was kissing her back and her hands tangled in his hair.  
Sixth, seventh, ninth - no, probably eighth - he groaned and their tongues met and her legs were turning to jelly. 

Then she lost count and her wits because he grabbed her again to lift her off her feet and pinned her roughly against the rock wall, covering her mouth with his so harshly their teeth clashed together. Danae answered with equal, feverish need she felt radiating from him.  
Between sucking on his lovely lower lip and biting his jaw, she fumbled with his armor.  
“I - I need to feel your skin,” she gasped as he bit her neck, and he complied immediately by shrugging the pieces off with ease and he was hard, so hard and burning hot against her pelvis. Danae tried to rid herself of the blacksmith’s apron that was still between them - so annoyingly sturdy -, and Vorstag simply ripped the straps and tore the thin dress beneath it open with swift, impatient hands. 

Liquid lust licked its way through her body in response. Finally she was naked, leaning on the smooth, warm stone, shivering in anticipation. He growled and her breath hitched, heat flooding her core from the dark glint in his eyes, but instead of sinking his cock into her as she expected, wanted, needed him to, he lifted her - higher against the rock, higher until her thighs were on his shoulders and she was splayed before his face - and then sank his tongue into her folds. 

She threw her head back, trying to suppress a wail and failing spectacularly. He drew thorough, maddening, flat-tongued licks from her perineum to the clit, the deep, approving sounds he made vibrating against her. His stubble was scraping her soft skin in a delicious contrast to his wet tongue. 

He took a firm hold around her thighs to hold her in place, circling her clit tauntingly, bordering on touching it but not, until she was pleading for more. And only when her pleading was bordering on crying, only then he flicked the nub with his wicked tongue, swept over it again, and again, doing it just slowly enough to drive her to the edge and hold her there, but never letting her fall. 

She was trying to hold on to the stone, to anything, panting, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood, staring at his head between her legs, his face, glistening from her juices, his tongue, appearing and disappearing from between her lips.  
He suckled, he flicked and swirled his tongue, his hands digging into her skin, bruising on her quaking thighs, her eyes squeezed shut and voice grew hoarse, and he began circling her pulsing clit again, then going back to licking it, continuing back and forth until she was a sobbing mess of wet need throbbing against his mouth, begging for a release, for mercy she knew she was not going to get yet.

When she was sure she was dying from the slow torture, gasping desperately for air, sweat covering her whole body, he finally lowered her back into his arms, pinning her between his big, solid body and the unyielding rock. He pushed his tongue between her eagerly opening lips, deep into her mouth to make her taste herself, pressing against her so she’d feel the sticky wetness she had dripped all over his chin and chest. 

She moaned into the sloppy kiss and her legs wrapped around his waist and now, at long last, she felt him slide into her waiting heat. She tore her mouth away from his to whimper weakly from the intense pleasure, he felt so good and the rough hair on his chest scraped just so against her sensitive nipples.  
His girth filled her perfectly and she was so wet and needy she protested loudly when he paused there, just sheathed fully inside her, breathing against her lips.  
His skin was scorching hot against her sweaty, quivering body. 

He fisted his hand in her hair and searched her eyes, waited until she could focus her vision enough to see the deep emotion in his. He started pulling out.  
“I love you.”  
His voice was serious, and he slammed back in like he wanted to make a point, making her cry out, and then did it again, pushed into her, snapping his hips against hers, looped his arms under her knees, around her thighs, maneuvering her until - of course - he found the perfect angle and she would have screamed if she could’ve filled her lungs even once but that was not happening, he was driving into her relentlessly and she was still teetering on that edge he had thrown her on before. 

She tried to scratch and bite and squeeze him tight enough to make him lose control but he was having none of that, only forced her legs wider and got in even deeper, the fullness and rhythm and the wanton bliss making her almost cry when his mouth was marking her flushed skin, and then - oh sweet Mara yes - his hand snaked between them and as soon as his deft fingers pressed on her swollen, slippery clit, she was coming, clamping around his cock with a silent scream, eyes rolling back into her head, and still he continued slamming into her flesh, working her clit, making her orgasm go on and on, until his own breath came in shallow pants and he was making helpless little sounds every time he hit home.

“I love you too,” she gasped into his ear and scraped his back with her nails and he was almost there, his rhythm faltering, face buried in her neck.  
“Come. Come inside me. I’m yours. And you are _mine_.” The last word she bit into his skin, and yes, his whole body convulsed and he came with a throaty, long, beautiful shout, thrusting inside her until the last tremors were over. 

He held her more gently, touching his forehead to hers, and they drew deep, ragged breaths together, slowly coming down from the dizzying high. He took a step back with her firmly in his arms and sat down heavily on her torn dress, leaning his back against the rock that had just served them so well. 

Straddling him now she ran her fingers lightly through his hair, on his neck and shoulders, slick from sweat, saliva and her. His arms were wrapped around her, still holding her against him as close as he could get her without being inside her. 

He looked at her uneasily.  
“I really have never been terrified before. Not like that.”  
“I believe you.”  
“I’m sorry I was angry.”  
“No, don’t be sorry. I guarantee I’ll be just as upset in a similar situation.”  
“But I was _yelling_.” He sounded dismayed.  
If she’d had the energy, she would have laughed. She smirked instead.  
“Yes, you were. It was surprising.”  
Vorstag looked embarrassed, and she continued.  
“Surprising... and kind of hot.”  
His eyes snapped back up.  
“Hot?”  
“Very.” Her mouth hovered above his.  
His lip quirked.  
“I still don’t think I’ll use it to seduce you in the future.”  
“I guess not,” she sighed.  
“I have better ways to do that,” he mused, drawing a lingering path from her shoulder to her hip with his warm hand and touching his lips minutely to hers, “much better ways.”  
“As if you need any,” she murmured and they kissed, tongues meeting deep and slow, moulding their bodies against each other easily, familiarly.

He was soon stirring between them again, nudging against her core, and she couldn’t resist grinding languidly against his shaft. He let out a muffled sound, moving into the touch. Her slit was still dripping wet, from her own juices as well as his come, and it was all too easy to just lift her hips and sit back down on the hardening cock. They swallowed each other’s sighs, enjoying the feeling of being together like this. Being as close as they could get.

There was no hurry, all the urgency was gone, and they moved with endless patience. She took her time, rolling her hips slowly, seeking his mouth occasionally, but mostly they were just looking at each other. She held his face in her hands, and they breathed the same air, whispering things lovers whisper when they find great joy and pleasure in each other. 

He reached to nibble on the sensitive skin beneath her ear, brushed the tips of her breasts with his thumbs - she arched her back, and he took the chance to lay his mouth on them, laving both nipples with his tongue, suckling until they were achingly hard and she was whimpering. 

She dragged his clever lips to meet hers again, fisted her hands in his hair as her movements became more determined. His thumb found her clit, and while she continued to ride him, pleasure building with every slip and slide, he gently eased her into a long, toe-curling orgasm, and he followed right after, moaning into her mouth, and she didn’t stop moving until he was spent and shuddering with the aftershocks and squeezing her so tight she thought they might fuse together. She buried her face in his hair and decided she had nothing against that.

They sat there for a good while, kissing, murmuring softly, unwilling to move. He was still buried inside her, and they were both marveling just how perfect the other felt right there. All the restless energy and fear from the dragon attack had been spent, replaced once again with glowing happiness.  
Around them, birds were settling in for the night, and setting sun painted the sky and the lake in brilliant, warm reds and oranges and gold.

***

“So do you think we’ll have more dragon attacks soon?” Danae asked innocently, when they were finally making their way back to the manor.  
She had the torn dress wrapped haphazardly around her, the apron keeping it together sufficiently enough, as long as she just held the apron in place with her hands. Vorstag was holding it from the back, though Danae had suspected out loud that he just wanted an excuse to hold her ass while they were walking.  
He hadn’t denied it. The man had no shame.

Vorstag barked a laugh.  
“Ysmir, woman, no! Yes! NO, I... I don’t even know how to answer that.”  
Danae sighed. “Well, I suppose we can always just wait for the others to go to bed.”  
“Less dangerous, that.”  
“Less exciting, too.”  
Vorstag smiled a crooked, smug smile.  
“We’ll just have to see about that. We’ll just have to see.”


End file.
